


A Moment's Grace

by fishfingersandjellybabies



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-22
Updated: 2015-07-22
Packaged: 2018-04-10 16:35:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4399358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishfingersandjellybabies/pseuds/fishfingersandjellybabies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Gotham taught him anything, it’s that he didn’t want to die with regrets. With <i>any</i> regrets.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	A Moment's Grace

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting on my hard drive for like two months, because I wasn’t completely sure about it, but I can’t find anything I can or want to change so. Here you go. Title/Based off of: ‘A Moment’s Grace’ by Boy & Bear

~~

_No I am not gonna die this way._

~~

Everything was awful.

Even for Gotham, it just seemed like there was no letting up. No light at the end of the tunnel. No easy nights. Not even any easy days. It all just kept pushing and pushing and _pushing_.

There were some nights Colin didn’t even get back to the orphanage. He crashed on the floors of Gotham’s other heroes. Nightwing, Red Hood, Spoiler and Black Bat…even Catwoman’s place once or twice, though the jury was still out on if she was a hero or not.

Sneak in through a window or a roof hatch, maybe grab a quick shower. Maybe just fall to the floor, rest for a few hours. Sleep for one and a half, then get up and get back to the grind.

No one saw each other much anymore. Just surviving on the word of others that their loved ones were still alive.

“I saw Batman this morning.”

“Batgirl took the gang leader to the police station about an hour ago.”

“Red Robin and his Titans were sneaking into the docks at like, four. Four-thirty at the latest.”

“Pretty sure Robin hasn’t slept in about three days, judging by how he looked when he jumped in to help me in that last fight.”

And that was fine, at first. If anything, he could take solace in the fact that he wasn’t going through this alone. He could see the circles under Nightwing’s eyes. Could see the tense twitch in Black Bat’s shoulders, as they were forced to remain apart from their family.

But after a while, it became difficult. The lack of human interaction was taxing, maybe even more so than the physical strain of being Abuse every night.

Not only that, but it became more prevalent as the fighting went on. As the losses began to pile up. Because they were good – Gotham’s heroes were _good_ – at their job. And there were more victories than defeats. But those defeats remained. When they won, they won handily. But when they lost, they lost hard.

When it all started, Colin swore to remember every name, every face he failed to protect. But now, months later, those faces were all started to blend together. Names forgotten, or never even learned in the first place.

But their presences were still felt.

He could think of nothing but the lives never lived. The emotions never felt. The dreams never fulfilled. The love never given, or even realized.

It’s how he ended up in this alleyway, how he ended up slumped against the wall, knees curled up, head in his hands. Just thinking about them. Thinking about how he could have done better, how he could have been faster, been stronger. Could have done _so much more_ to save them and maybe, just maybe they would-

Through the patter of the rain, he heard the distinct splash of a footstep. Then another, and another. One more, then the sound of fabric running down the bricks, a slight grunt as the person who joined him situated themselves.

“Todd,” The person – Damian, obviously – croaked hoarsely. “Red Hood and…well, all of my predecessors basically, they all say things like this…it never gets easier. It never gets better, or more successful. But we…we have to keep trying. We have to keep going.”

“I know.” Colin murmured, not looking up.

“Because if we don’t do it, no one will.” Damian continued. “And could you imagine how much worse off this hellhole would be then?”

“I know.” Colin repeated. Truth be told, he wasn’t thinking about the city. Wasn’t thinking about the consequences she might have to endure. He was still thinking about those people. Those people who weren’t ever going to be known as anything more than victims again. Their plans, their hopes. Everything they were never going to get to do.

He didn’t…

He didn’t want to end up like that.

And he didn’t mean dead. He could end up dead. That was fine. Really, it was an expectation in this line of work. He was prepared for death, just as he was prepared for the sun to rise each day.

He meant unfulfilled. He didn’t want to leave anything left undone, or unsaid. No regrets or guilt. No anywhere, in any aspect of his life.

But especially not here.

Especially not with Damian.

He raised his head, glanced over to his partner – his friend, his _best_ friend, his… - and took in his face. The dark skin, the deep bruises, the dried trail of blood from his nose. He didn’t think when he reached out, ran his fingers gently across scratched skin. Damian didn’t move, didn’t react, and Colin wondered why. Was it exhaustion? Or…did he know? Did he _always_ know?

He couldn’t take that chance.

“Colin?”

_No regrets. Don’t be like your victims. Don’t chance being another poor, unfortunate soul who died with a secret._

_Don’t leave Damian in the dark._

“What is it?” Damian whispered. “Colin, what’s wrong?”

_I need to tell you_ , His mind buzzed. _I need you to know how…_ madly _in love with you I am._

Instead, he shook his head, let his mouth twitch up in a tiny smile, ran his thumb over the seam of the green mask, and closed the already small gap between them.

And he was almost there, could feel Damian’s slow breaths, when the other shifted forward to meet him, right at the last second. Despite the rain, and the injuries along his face, Damian’s lips were soft and warm, and Colin wanted to _devour_ them. He wouldn’t, of course. Not now. There was a time and a place, and this was neither.

He kept it slow, even as Damian clutched at his shirt, trying to convey every emotion he’s ever held for the other. The longing that’s plagued him for years, the sadness when Damian was dead, and he thought he might never see him again, the happiness and absolute love he felt when they were together.

Words were never his strong point.

But Damian could hear him loud and clear.

(He hoped.)

Even as Damian pulled back, even Colin dropped his hand to hold the other’s neck, even as they both pressed their foreheads against the other’s, Colin felt the relief flood his system.

“Colin…”

“I love you.” Colin breathed, closing his eyes and squeezing his grip on Damian’s throat. “I’ve _always_ loved you, _will_ always love you, and I…I just wanted you to-”

He knew. Damian knew and maybe even felt it in return. But right now, even that detail didn’t really matter.

_No regrets. Nothing left unsaid._

He could die tomorrow, now, and be perfectly at peace.

“Don’t you dare.” Damian’s voice was suddenly low and warning, forcing Colin’s eyes to fly open. Even through the mask lenses, he could see Damian’s bright blue irises. “Is this…? Are you sick? Are you…are you hurt?” He ran his hand down Colin’s chest, felling for any abnormities. “…Don’t you dare tell me this as some sort of…some sort of _goodbye_.”

Colin blinked.

Then smiled.

Damian scoffed, pulled back completely and stood, stomping a few feet away. And even from far away, Colin could see the flush on his face.

“We’ll stop the crime. We’ll fix this city.” Damian pledged. Suddenly he spun back around, pointing accusingly towards Colin. “And then we’re going to _finish this conversation._ ”

Colin couldn’t speak as Damian was suddenly back in his face, hands on his cheeks, yanking him forward to smash their lips together. It was quick and rough, and Damian didn’t linger. But his eyes were pleading and his voice was fierce.

“So don’t get yourself killed, got it?”

The smile was still plastered to his face – He knew, he _knew_ and he _loved him back_ – as he curled his hand around Damian’s. Ghosted his breath across Damian’s cheek. “Promise.”

His secrets were bared. His dreams were fulfilled. Damian knew. Damian _reciprocated_.

Perhaps everything wasn’t so awful after all.


End file.
